Page 40 of Feeding Hope
Unfortunately, the worst was yet to come.
Chapter Six.
Jesse – Two Months Later.
“Where are you going? The Bradshaws will be here in twenty minutes.”
My mother’s imperious voice came from behind me as I headed toward the front door. I turned to see her standing on the bottom stair, perfectly coiffed and dressed for luncheon.
“We discussed this, Mother. Every day this week. The funeral is today.”
“And I told you that you couldn’t go.”
Anger bubbled up inside me again. I was nineteen. An adult. I would do what I damn well pleased.
“And I told you I would go no matter what.”
“That girl is a gold-digger, Jesse. She’s using you to get her claws into you.”
“Mother, I won’t listen to this. No matter what I say, or what proof I offer you, you won’t believe the truth about Lyrical, so I’m not wasting another minute arguing with you about this.”
I came home from my first year of college two weeks ago, thrilled to have a little over two months to spend with Lyrical, and hopefully spoil her rotten before I returned to school. She was reluctant to leave her dad stranded since he couldn’t work, but I hoped I could convince her to come with me to Stanford inthe fall. I was moving into an apartment off campus, and even if she couldn’t take classes full-time, she could go to community college and work part-time.
However, life had other plans. I’d barely been home a week when she called, once again at a loss. She’d come home from work to find her father had taken his own life. No note, no explanation, no apology.
Today, I planned to stand at Lyrical’s side at a grave for her father. While in some ways this made my job of convincing her easier, she was still proud and would likely see my offer as a handout.
With two weeks to go until her high school graduation, at least she was eighteen and wouldn’t have to go into foster care. Her teachers offered her the chance to skip her finals and the last days of classes so she could get a head start on finding her way through this mess, but she refused. She insisted she finish her classes and her exams. I was so goddamn proud of her, even if I thought she was nuts for not taking them up on their offer. She kept clawing her way toward the light. One breath at a time. One step at a time. I’ve met no one so fucking strong.
With my parting shot to my mother, I turned and headed for the door again. I actually had it open and was about to step over the threshold when the threat came.
“I didn’t want to resort to this, but if you go through that door, Jesse, your father and I will no longer pay your tuition at Stanford, or any other school for that matter. Consorting with that girl is beneath you.”
I turned to look at her.
My twin, Jamie, stood at the landing of the stairs, looking down at us. “Mom! You can’t do that!”
She didn’t turn to look at him. Didn’t even flinch as she warned, “Stay out of this, James.”
My mother stared at me down, a cruel smile on her face. She thought she had me.
Ever since they assigned me that English project with Lyrical during my senior year, my mother kept harping on “that riffraff” I was hanging around with. Witnessing just how cruel my mother could be was an eye-opener, and it embarrassed and horrified me we were blood-related. Any affection I held for my parents died with her most recent argument.
Something had to give.
Exhausted with her and our endless arguments, I replied. “Do what you have to do, mother,” I replied. “You preach Christian charity for the less fortunate to all your friends, wearing your donations and charitable work like a badge of honor. Apparently, dressing up in designer clothes and paying five hundred dollars a plate for a charity ball to feed the hungry or help build a shelter is acceptable, but to actually assist someone you know in actual need is inappropriate.”
Once again, I turned to head out the door.
“Jesse!”
Ignoring her distressed call, I closed the door behind me and headed to my car. The house door opened and slammed shut quickly, and I looked up to see Jamie throwing his suit coat on as he approached the passenger side.
He raised an eyebrow at me. “You didn’t honestly think I was letting you do this on your own, did you?”
A rueful smile on my face, I said, “I hoped not. Lyrical needs all the friends she can get right now.”
The funeral was quick, small, and uneventful. A few people from her father’s work showed up, but otherwise it was the funeral director, Jamie, myself and Lyrical. Afterward, we took Lyrical for something to eat, but it was obvious she wasn’t hungry and not up for company. I wanted to stay with her at the apartment, but she insisted I head home. I left, but with theunderstanding that tomorrow I would be over bright and early with breakfast to help her sort through things and make plans to move forward.
